


Royal Fetish

by Feeeshy



Series: Strange Desires [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Armor Kink, Blow Jobs, Botanist Warrior of Light, Chair Sex, Clothed Sex, Clothing Kink, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Heavy Petting, Light Dom/sub, Love Bites, Marking, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Scholar Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Semi-Public Sex, Throne Sex, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feeeshy/pseuds/Feeeshy
Summary: “I think that I would need a live demonstration, as well. With the outfit.” Her eyes held his as she spoke. The walls that she had set against him were quickly falling away to reveal a more than willing bedmate.Delighted like a devil, he leaned in closer."A bit of a fetish for royalty, my dearest hero?" He whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her back. "Would you like to be part of it as well? To be dressed in the finest royal silks and brought to the Imperial Chamber? Laid bare on the bed of the Emperor?" Another shiver as his lips brushed against her ear. "Or maybe the throne room itself would be more to your taste."That earned him a stuttered breath.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Series: Strange Desires [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853353
Comments: 38
Kudos: 362





	1. Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior of Light does thorough research.

A rain the previous night had brought cool, damp air to Lakeland, and Emet-Selch was doing his best to sidestep all the newly formed puddles. An especially sloshy step sent mud splattering onto his boots, and he vaguely remembered the days when he would of had to clean them without the aid of magic; it would have been exhausting if someone in Garlemald had seen a supposed pureblood Garlean cleaning his greaves with a only snap of his fingers.

Normally, on days like this when the sky was an uninspired grey and the ground soggy as a bog, he would not even bother with the mortals. The hunt for Lightwardens had hit a wall, and he was content to let them be as they sorted out their plans. He would rather spend such a drab day napping, anyways.

But before he could drift off to sweet slumber, he noticed the Warrior of Light acting peculiar. Despite the awful weather, she had sequestered herself away to a small fishing village along the lake's shore with an unusually large amount of literature. He already knew she was the studious type, but the spread of books she was currently pouring over threatened to overwhelm the small table they were scattered on.

She was so engrossed in her work that even the creak of the old deck's floorboards as he approached was not enough to get her attention, nor did her quill hand still from its note taking as he stood behind her and cleared his throat.

 _“Hero?”_ he finally asked.

Her quill scratched an ugly line as she jerked her head around to look at him, her concentration finally broken.

The fear and surprise that flashed across her face at his sudden appearance, he had expected; the creep of a blush upon her cheeks, he had not. But before he could ponder what that could mean her expression settled back into something more neutral as she turned back to her book.

"How can I help you, Emet-Selch?" she asked dryly. 

"So to the point. One would think the great hero would be more cordial.”

She snorted, but otherwise paid him no mind as she kept scribbling notes.

“I was just curious as to what you were doing way out here on such a dreary day,” he continued. “Surely the Crystarium would provide a better spot to study."

She paused in her writing, thinking. He had noticed in their few brief interactions before that she was always very careful with him. It wasn’t surprising, given his status as an _Ascian_ and hers as a _vaunted hero_. But even still, every word or action she gave him was not done so lightly, each one weighed and scrutinized.

Her soul had always had this deliberate quality to it, he remembered, and an aged adoration bubbled up from somewhere deep and forgotten within him. 

“I just wanted somewhere quieter to work," she said cooly. There was a lightness to her voice that he didn't believe.

"With no aetheryte nearby, carrying all those tomes way out here must have been quite the chore,” he probed.

“The _Warrior of Light, Famed Ascian Slayer_ can handle carrying some books around,” was her quick retort.

He hummed as he mulled that over. Puzzling out why the hero would go so far out of her way to study in the cold and damp was like a game he hadn’t played in milenia.

She gave a heavy sigh and sat up to get a better look at him, evidently already tired of this.

"Mayhaps I just didn't want company, Emet-Selch. Nor to be interrupted."

"You have my profoundest apologies, hero," he said in mock concern as he sat in one of the empty chairs at the table. "Am I being a nuisance?" He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the nearby books in the way he knew she'd hate.

She leveled at him a glare, but there was no real fire behind it as that blush from early threatened to color her cheeks again. Realizing this, she promptly went back to her reading, but Emet-Selch had seen enough to urge him on.

"Quite the collection you have here," he said unprompted. Her assortment had a wide range of age and quality; some looked freshly printed, while most looked worn to some degree, and one especially aged tome looked as though it had been so long disused that it would never truly be free from dust. It was flipped over, and he traced a line with his gloved finger through the dust on its dull grey back cover.

"Where did you manage to find something this old in Norvrandt?" He looked at the dirt now coating his fingertip. "Last I heard, books were a bit of a scarcity here on the First."

"It's from the Source, actually. All of these are,” she said. Her quill paused in thought. “That one," she motioned to the dusty book, "is from the Great Gubal Library."

He leaned back and crossed his arms, trying to remember where he had heard that name before. He knew he recognized it from somewhere, and if she had deigned to give him this extra information it must be for a reason.

"...Wasn't that in that Sharlayan settlement?" was his ventured guess after some moments, pulling from the memories of his conquering years and days spent pouring over maps and strategies. “The one up north, or was it the one on the coast? Either way, I thought they all up and left years ago."

Her quill paused mid stroke. She sat up, her eyes now studying him as she considered her next words.

"They did," she said slowly. "And, unfortunately, they took most of their books with them, including the ones on the subject I'm keen to research." She motioned towards the old tome with her quill. "That was the only one left on the subject that I could find."

"And what subject was that, hero?" He asked as he turned the heavy thing over.

"You."

He nearly dropped the book as its front cover greeted him with the Garlean emblem. His fumbling didn’t go unnoticed, and the smallest of smirks turned up the corner of her mouth, evidently pleased with herself for catching the great Emet-Selch off guard.

Now he understood why she would want to work away from the prying eyes of her peers.

“Now isn’t that a bit rude, reading gossip and hearsay about someone behind their back,” he said as he flipped through the book. He could only imagine the unflattering things written about Solus zos Galvus in Eorzea, but this one instead appeared to detail the entire known history of Garlemald and her people, with only a small chapter in the back dedicated to the Galvus family line. It was also several years out of date and only accounted for the very beginning of his reign.

"...I was hoping to read something with a little more bite to it," he confessed as he closed the dry history book.

She reached into the pile and pulled out a well-worn pamphlet with a bright red flag printed on its cover.

"You could read this if you want something with ‘bite’ _._ It was given to prospective Maelstrom soldiers in an attempt to educate them on the Garlean threat."

"Your collection runs the gamut, doesn't it?" he said as he took it from her. Indeed, this was more what he was expecting to see; the Garleans written as vile villains with the Eorzean soldiers as the shining heros counterpoint. And it had much more foul language than he would have expected from a military recruitment tool.

"I grabbed anything relevant that I could find. This one, for example,” she motioned to the book she had been reading when he arrived, “is about the sights of Garlemald, including," she flipped through pages depicting lavish homes and gardens, "the various houses and vacation spots of the Royal family, including your _personal_ _villa_." She side-eyed him. “How _decadent_.”

He could only offer her a lazy grin and shrug.

“It was expected of an emperor to be decadent, my dear, and I had to play the part.”

She only hummed again and taped the feather tip of her quill to her lips. Though she looked calm on the outside, he could tell by the way her eyes narrowed that something was weighing heavy on her mind. About what, he would like to find out.

“Now, my dear hero, this is quite the impressive collection you have. I imagine it was no easy feat to amass this horde of information,” he said as he splayed his fingers across the cover of a nearby book. "I'm flattered. Truly. But all of this begs the question of _why.”_

Her lips parted slightly as her eyes searched his face, but whatever she was going to say, she seemed to think better of and looked away towards the lake's water instead.

“Why go through all the trouble?” he continued to prod. “If you are so inclined to learn about Solus zos Galvus, you need only ask. I might even be inclined to answer.”

Despite herself, she huffed a laugh at that, and a flood of nostalgia washed over him. It heated him from his core and drove away the chill of the day.

She closed the book in front of her and gently pushed it aside, giving her room to rest her arms on the table and lean towards him. When her eyes met his again, her blushed cheeks gave her eyes a warmth that quickened his pulse.

Her next words were said slowly and with the weight of a strategy behind them.

“Perhaps the simple answer is that you fascinate me.”

“I fascinate you, dear hero? In what ways?” he purred, quick to jump on where this could be heading. 

Instead of responding to him, she reached for a book placed atop a pile. It was in pristine condition, and she carefully opened it up before her. 

“This one is actually quite interesting,” she said as she flipped through its pages, ignoring his puzzled look, “as it is the only one here actually printed in Garlemald during your rule. A wealthy friend in Ul’dah had it in their library and is letting me borrow it.”

"And what is it about?" He asked slowly. She was leading this conversation somewhere and he was keen to find out where.

"It's the autobiography of the royal tailor and armorer. You have quite the eye for fashion, apparently. He was a busy man." He raised a brow as she flipped to a page and turned the book around for him to see. It was a reprint of a painting he didn't remember standing for of him wearing the full Imperial Armor of His Radiance.

“Quite a lovely outfit, really,” she began, “but one does start to wonder at how you go about removing all of these layers of armor and cloth.”

To leave Emet-Selch speechless, no matter how brief, was a monumental achievement. 

But he quickly found his tongue again, and with it came a smile and a wicked idea.

“Careful, hero, or I might begin to think you're fond of me.”

“You did say you would answer any question I had. If you’re willing, that is." She closed the book, letting her hand linger on the cover near him.

The dance of their conversation so far had been so much like the days of old, a back and forth he had missed dearly. That familiar hue of her soul pulled at him, and in turn his ancient soul began to ache with want for her.

He placed his gloved hand atop her exposed thigh under the table. She jumped and looked at him with wide eyes, those soft lips of hers parted. They were close enough now that he could see the ghost of freckles on her cheeks.

“I think I could find the time,” he said as his hand slid upward slightly, just under the edge of the skirt that Scholars were wont to wear.

“I think that I would need a live demonstration, as well. With the outfit.” Her eyes held his as she spoke. The walls that she had set against him were quickly falling away to reveal a more than willing bedmate.

Delighted like a devil, he leaned in closer.

"A bit of a fetish for royalty, my dearest hero?" He whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her back. "Would you like to be part of it as well? To be dressed in the finest royal silks and brought to the Imperial Chamber? Laid bare on the bed of the Emperor?" Another shiver as his lips brushed against her ear. "Or maybe the throne room itself would be more to your taste."

That earned him a stuttered breath.

"Is that what you would like, hero? I could sit upon my throne in full regalia, with you on my lap spread around my cock as I thrust up into you for all the Empire to see."

His hand slid further up her skirt to drive home his desires. His adoration from earlier boiled over into full reverence when her thighs pressed together around his hand.

"My, my. Aren’t we an eager little thing,” he said as his own breathing grew heavier.

A wispy laugh was all she answered him with. She could not deny it.

He brushed his lips to her ear again and whispered a promise.

“You need only ask, _Warrior of Light_.”

Her response was practically a moan.

_“Please.”_

  
  



	2. The Throne Room

There was no hesitation on his part.

"Then allow me to take us somewhere better suited.”

She nodded. He leaned in while wrapping his arm around her, pulling her closer. The Darkness took them both, and when they emerged from the other side they stood atop the stairs to the Garlean Imperial throne

He let her go and she stumbled forward, shocked by the sudden teleportation. The great hall yawned around them, it’s ever present gloom exactly as he remembered it. How the room could possibly entice anyone was beyond him.

“Everything you imagined it would be? While it’s not exactly to _my_ sensibilities, it has served its purpose well enough, I suppose.”

“ _How-”_ She started as she turned towards him, but the words died in her throat at the sight that greeted her.

The unmistakable crown of the Garlean Emperor, it’s golden points and curves catching the light, sat atop his head as he stood before the throne. His layers of coats and skirts were gone, replaced with greaves and armguards, and a tight, form fitting chestplate. Belts and sashes sat snugly at his waist, and across his shoulders hung the Imperial royal mantle.

“You will have to forgive me this liberty, hero; the full regalia armor is quite uncomfortable, so you’ll just have to settle for the Imperial ceremonial attire.”

She let out a breathless laugh.

“This will do just fine,” she said. Though her words were spoken with levity, there was an absolute _hunger_ behind her eyes as they roamed over every ilm of him.

It almost left him feeling flattered.

“Truly? I suppose when you spend most of a mortal life with something, you can lose sight of its splendor.” 

He made a mock display of examining himself, turning and moving the cloak out of the way to give her a better view of his legs and hips, and he saw how her eyes settled on his backside. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he was looked upon so greedily. He crossed the short distance between them. A now leather-clad thumb and forefinger gently tilted her head up as he leaned down, just close enough to feel her heated breath on his lips.

“The lust emanating from you is almost palpable. Does the Warrior of Light have no decency?”

The fire in her eyes only burned brighter at his teasing. She splayed her hands across his armoured chest, leaning her weight onto him.

“Not at this moment, no.”

She moved to close the distance between their lips, but he pulled away. 

“Tsk, tsk. And no self control, apparently. What makes you think you’re worthy of such delicacy from Solus zos Galvus?" He trailed his finger along her jaw to the bottom of her chin, tipping her head up to make sure her eyes stayed focused on his. “No, Warrior, you will have to earn that.”

 _“How?”_ she rasped. There was a bewitching quality to her eagerness. It was in her voice, in her eyes, in how her hands had already found their way to his hips.

He absolutely reveled in it.

"Well, _my dearest hero,”_ he said as he turned away from her and walked towards the throne, “I think getting on your knees and _serving_ _your_ _Emperor_ would be a good start _._ ” He sat down heavily in the chair and leaned back, and when he spread his legs, it was more of a command than an invitation.

She obeyed without delay. Situating herself between his knees, she rubbed her hands slowly up along his thighs, savoring him. He undid his belts for her and pushed aside the decorative sashes to grant her access to the helm of his pants. Her fingers fluttered along it.

“Have you ever bedded someone while wearing this?”

“I have.”

He expected misplaced jealousy at his answer, but it seemed to only increase her ardor. Her fingers worked deftly at the fastenings to his trousers.

“How about on the throne?”

She freed his already half-hard cock from its confinement, eliciting a soft hiss from him as it met the cool air.

“I was only ever in here for business, my dear, not pleasu- _Ah!_ ” He bit back a moan as she used the flat of her tongue to lick a slow, vulgar line from the base of his cock all the way to his tip.

He could feel a flush creep up his face. "Eager thing," he mumbled, a half-hearted reprimand in an attempt to mask his embarrassment.

The Warrior, however, was quite pleased with herself.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be a vocal lover. What a pleasant surprise,” she crooned

"I’m not,” he corrected. “It has just been awhile."

She only hummed at that and turned her attention back to her task. She planted wet kisses along the side of his length, her hand slowly pumping him until he stood tall and proud. He swallowed hard as she tongued at his tip.

When she spoke, her breath was cool where she had licked.

“Emet-Selch, I-”

“Emperor Solus.”

She looked up at him with a questioning look. He returned with a smirk and cocked brow.

“If we are going to indulge in this roleplay, we should commit to it fully. You will address me by my reigning title.”

An expression overcame her face that he could only describe as bliss. She nuzzled and kissed at his base, burying her nose in the soft hairs there. He could feel her smile against him.

“As you wish, _Emperor Solus._ ”

His breath hitched as she took him into her mouth and swirled her tongue around his tip. Slowly, she lowered her head down his length, stopping halfway before pulling back just as agonizingly slow, testing his girth in her mouth. 

When she pressed the flat of her tongue against him again, he had to dig his heels in to keep himself in check. Even as her welcoming mouth took him all the way to his base and then back up again and again, he was determined to not cry out like earlier; he was an ancient being that had laid with mortals plenty before, and he was not wont to howl in bed, even if it had been a fair few years. 

It was when she unexpectedly hollowed her cheeks that set his resolve trembling, and he hoped she hadn’t noticed the aether around them crackle with his pleasure.

There was a reverence in the way she dragged her tongue over his length with every bow of her head. Like she was savoring him, her tongue explored every ilm, flicking and lapping at the underside of his head when she came back up before dragging it firmly back down his length again. 

"That's a good girl,” he purred as she set a steady pumping rhythm. “Just like that." 

She glanced up at him with lust lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, her lips glistening from her work.

“Such a vulgar display from the vaunted hero,” he commented. It was a struggle to keep his voice level as his breathing grew more laboured. “What would the others say if they saw you now, kneeling before me like this? Pleasuring the founding father of the Garlean Empire.”

She moaned low and needy around him, and he had to choke back the sound that was dragged from his very core. 

“Pleasuring an _Ascian,"_ he hissed through strained breath. "Perhaps we _should_ invite your Scions next time. Show them just how _depraved_ their Warrior of Light is. _”_

The noise she made was obscene, a sinful cry made all the more vulgar by being muffled by his cock. She started to bob her head with more fervor, her hand adding a delicious twist on every pull up that sent his toes curling and the heat that sat low in his belly growing.

_"Warrior."_

He reached down and threaded his fingers through her hair and through his fingertips could almost feel her excitement at his touch. She looked up at him with pupils blown wide with want, ready and eager.

“ _Hero_ ," he started again, setting his voice into something low and commanding, "I think you should join me up here."

She happily hummed around him before sliding off. She stood and reached under her skirt, hooked her thumbs under the hem of her smallclothes, and was ready to pull them off when an idea suddenly came to him.

“Wait,” he ordered. “Turn around and take them off. Slowly. Give your emperor a little show.”

The hero bit her lip as a deeper blush than he had yet seen shaded her cheeks. Turning away from him, she slowly slid her smallclothes down her backside, deliberately bending over to give him an excellent view as she leisurely dragged them down her legs and stepped out of them. He could already see how wet she was for him.

“Good. Very good," he said thickly, licking his lips. He reached forward and guided her down onto his lap so she was straddling him, face to face. He felt her entrance press down on his tip and the aether around them crackled again.

“Your Radiance is hungrier than I would have thought,” she noted with an impish smile.

He opened his mouth to respond, but a guttural groan tore from his throat instead as she lowered herself onto him, his head suddenly popping into her soaking warmth.

When she sat flush with his hips, she stilled, allowing a moment for herself to adjust to him. A delicate silence fell, with only the sounds of their measured breathing between them.

Then, she started to roll her hips, but her hands struggled to find purchase on his chestplate for leverage.

“Take this off,” she panted.

“I thought the outfit was the point,” he said smugly. Even fully sheathed inside her, he could not help his teasing.

Her expression grew dangerous, and she rolled her hips in a way that had his breath stuttering.

 _“Please,_ oh great _Emperor Solus,”_ she begged, punctuated with another heavenly hip roll. _“Please_ let me _ravish_ you.”

The offending piece of armor immediately dissipated into aether.

The newly exposed skin of his chest glistened with sweat, and the hero drank in the sight of it with a predatory look in her eyes that went straight to his cock. His hands white-knuckled on the armrest of the throne as she started to ride him fast and rough, just as he was hoping she would do. She lunged forward, licking an obscene line across his chest and all the way up to his collarbone before biting down on the crook on his neck so hard it was sure to mark. The broken, choked cry he let out echoed off the walls of the great hall.

Spurred on, she continued to suck and nip along his neck, and each time she did his hips jerked up to meet hers. This exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure was an ecstasy he had not experienced in so long; even the boldest of bedmates shied away from marking the emperor, no matter how much he insisted.

He lost himself completely, the hall filling with the uninhibited moans and gasp of His Radiance. He grasped at her, desperate for anything to hold onto as the fire in his belly quickly swelled. His hand found her hair and pulled, and when he did she bit down so hard he was certain she had drawn blood. Her pace became erratic as she sensed his impending release, eager to bring him over the edge. He threw an arm around her waist as he curled in on himself, pulling her in as close as possible as his wild thrust overcame him.

His climax hit him so sudden it knocked the air from his lungs as his hips stuttered to a stop, spilling deep in her.

It took several moments for him to collect himself and clear away the haze of his peak. He still held her close, and she tenderly kissed at the marks she had left along his neck and shoulders. 

“These will be a problem if you change back into your usual attire,” she said softly as she admired her work.

“Do you think your companions will ask where they came from? Are they interested in the sex life of an Ascian?” he asked lightly, still trying to regain his breath.

“Thancred might ask, if morbid curiosity overcomes him.” She sighed and shifted in his lap, her movements sending aftershocks of pleasure rippling through him as his softening cock twitched inside her. “I need to be getting back to my things before too much longer.”

“Back to business already? What about you, or was my finish enough for the both of us?” He cocked a brow at her.

The corner of her lip quirked into a smile.

“Not quite, so I think we’ll just have to do this again, sometime. If you would indulge me?”

“I’m not opposed to that idea,” he answered too quickly and cursed himself for it.

Her gaze did not meet his as she removed herself from his lap with a hiss and put back on her smallclothes. She turned and regarded him still lounging in his throne with eyes that no longer held any warmth to them.

“Yes?” he asked innocently but he very much knew what she needed.

Her eyes narrowed at him.

“I can’t get back on my own.”

He hummed in absentminded agreement, tucking himself back in and situating his clothes back into place.

“For someone so well educated, it was quite foolish of you to let an Ascian whisk you away to gods know where.” Her whole body tensed at his jest. She had not even brought any weaponry with her, he realized. “Worry not, dear hero, I shall bring you back to the quaint village I found you in, whole and hale,” he assured her as he stood.

She nodded. He came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the hero leaning slightly into the gesture. A moment’s concentration is all it took for him to transport them to the woods on the outskirts of the fishing village.

Before he released her, he bent down low to whisper in her ear.

“The royal bedchamber next time, hero. I think you will like it.”

That excited shiver from earlier came back.

“I'm looking forward to it, Emet-Selch.”

She did not give him a glance back as she walked towards the village.


	3. Love Bites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small detour before we get to the royal bedchamber, but I just really wanted to write something with Emet and his hickeys

_"Ascian?"_

Emet-Selch was ready to depart the Ocular when the voice called out to him. A meeting had been called that morning to discuss the groups next move, and, ever attempting to be in their good graces, he showed up to offer his support. Even if his efforts were never fully appreciated or acknowledged.

It also offered him the opportunity to see if the hero's demeanor towards him would change, but alas, she had returned to her previous standoffish ways. Even that rogue blush from yesterday did not return when she caught him stealing glances.

_"Ascian,_ What is _that?"_

It took Emet-Selch a moment to connect the voice to that Scion. Thancred, he finally remembered. Lahabrea's puppet.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, turning towards him. 

"On your _neck_ ," the Hyur continued, jabbing a finger in his direction. Disgust dripped from his voice.

A memory from yesterday's romp came to Emet-Selch's mind; it seemed the hero had been spot-on in her assessment of her friend's curiosity getting the better of him. 

He rubbed at his neck. The hero had been also right about his usual outfit doing a poor job of hiding the marks left by her; the patches of red bruises mixed with bite marks that peppered the side of his throat practically screaming of a night well spent. 

Their trust was a tenuous thing, he knew, built on a foundation of mutual pleasures and nothing more. He could easily out the hero now, knock her off the pedestal the rest had put her on. But she had already made clear her desires for a future tryst, desires he was eager to fulfill, and coaxing her into his bed would become much more difficult if he outright breached this fragile trust.

He suspected Thancred was a man of the world, and there would be no convincing him that they were anything but the marks left in the throes of passion. 

"I may be immortal, but I am not immune to the desires of the flesh," he said, deciding his best course of action was roundabout truth. "I have wants and needs just as you and yours."

The disgust in Thancred's voice reached his face as he recoiled away from the Ancient.

"That is quite more than I wanted to know, and I regret asking entirely."

Emet-Selch offered only a lazy half-shrug.

"I told you I would never lie to your lot, so you have only yourself to blame."

Thancred shook his head at the Ascian's upfrontedness before turning his attention to his other companions. Figuring the morning finally spent, Emet-Selch readied to leave again when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of the hero leaving the Ocular together with the Exarch.

It was not jealousy that bubbled up from within Emet-Selch. He had no claim over her, no more than she did him. But, the day would prove to be stunningly boring if he did not take the initiative, and he knew exactly how he would like to pass the time.

Emet-Selch retreated into the Darkness. From the safety of the shadows, he watched as the Warrior and the enigmatic Exarch walked together through the tower and into the courtyard below. Despite the Exarch's secretive ways, the hero seemed to be enjoying his company, talking and smiling at him in that genuine fashion that reached her eyes.

"Out on a stroll together? How _lovely."_

The Exarch whipped his head around towards the sudden sound of Emet-Selch's voice, but the hero merely cast him a glance over her shoulder. He could see it in her eyes - cold calculation returned, her mind already trying to analyze what his sudden intrusion could mean, trying to gauge if he meant to cause her problems.

He did, but in a much less direct way than what she was probably imagining.

"Can we help you, Emet-Selch?" the Exarch asked coldly. 

"I was just hoping to accompany you two. It is such a nice day for a walk, afterall," he chortled in his most innocent of voices. 

"That won't be necessary," the Exarch barked, denying him immediately.

"I am hurt, Exarch. Wounded to the quick. My _desire_ for cooperation will only come to fruition if we take the time to _enjoy_ _each other's company."_ He made sure to look the Warrior in the eyes as he spoke, causing her brows to knit together ever so slightly.

"Again," the Exarch said, "thank you, but we do not need a third party for this."

“But I insist. However are we going to _erect_ these bridges of friendship? Must I _kneel before you_ and beg?”

The hero let out a long, haggard sigh. She caught on quickly, how delightful.

"Let's just let him come along,” she spoke to the sky, now, refusing to look him in the eyes. “We are only going to the Cabinet."

It was a gamble on whether the hero would appreciate his quips, so Emet-Selch was delighted to see it pay off, but the Exarch turned to the Warrior in obvious shock. The hood may have obscured his eyes, but Emet-Selch suspected his eyebrows would be high on his brow were they visible.

"A-are you sure that is wise?"

"Either he will follow us like this or from the shadows, there is no getting rid of him. At least in this way, we will know what he's up to.”

A self-satisfied smirk appeared on Emet-Selch's face as the Exarch stared, dumbstruck, wordless at the hero. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, but in the end his respect for the Warrior of Light's judgment outweighed whatever concerns he held. 

"Very well,” he said, resigned to the Ascians presence, “if you think it will be fine. Let's be on our way then.”

The hero nodded and started walking again, the Exarch quick to pace by her side, with Emet-Selch leisurely strolling behind.

His presence had evidently put a damper on the jovial mood the pair had before. In silence the trio walked, past the aetheryte plaza and down dimly-lit flights of stairs. The air grew uncomfortably humid as they went deeper and deeper into the Crystarium, and Emet-Selch saw why as they came to what looked to be an underground greenhouse of sorts.

They continued walking past the hidden garden to a pair of large doors at the end of the hall, opening to reveal a vast library on the other side. The smell of old parchment wafted over the trio as they entered.

Emet-Selch turned towards the Warrior.

“How is it that everytime I see you, you are nose deep in research and books?”

She shrugged.

“Such is the wont of Scholars, after all.”

“I believe the section we want is...this way,” the Exarch did not sound entirely sure as he directed them up the spiral staircase to the second floor. He stopped before one of the nooks with tall bookshelves framing the space on either side. A plain table with a few chairs tucked underneath sat in the middle of the alcove and the light from the lone meager lamp on the table casted deep shadows into the corners where its light could not reach.

Emet-Selch ran a finger along the spines of the books on the nearby shelf. From the titles, they seemed to all be related to plants or agriculture.

“Fancy a spot of gardening, Warrior of Light?”

"She is not just _gardening_ ,” the Exarch was quick to correct. “The Crystalline Mean wishes to start exploring the possibility of bringing back farming methods that fell out of use after the flood, to help with the food supplies. The Warrior of Light has graciously offered her knowledge of botany to help with this endeavor."

"How generous." Emet-Selch could hardly picture a bigger waste of the hero’s talents. 

“This should be the whole botanical section,” the Exarch said, ignoring Emet-Selch as he leaned his staff against the shelf. “Hopefully we will find all we need in here.”

The hero blinked at him, surprised.

“You are going to stay?” she asked, slowly. “I would hate to keep you from your work, and I do not know how long I will be in here...” Emet-Selch raised a brow at that. If he wasn't mistaken, she seemed almost eager to have the Exarch take his leave.

“It is quite alright. You are doing us this favor, after all, it’s the least I can do to help you pour through these dusty tomes. Besides,” the Exarch looked up at Emet-Selch in what he was sure was supposed to be a glare if his hood had not obscured his face, “I would be loath to leave you alone in present company.”

Emet-Selch scoffed at the Exarch’s attempted bristling.

“Hmm, are you expecting me to kidnap your beloved Warrior? Whisk her away to my far off villainous lair?" He would love nothing more than to do just that, but he suspected he should keep that to himself.

"I would not put it past a fiend such as yourself."

Emet-Selch's eyes narrowed.

"Do you think you could actually stop me if I did have the inclination to?"

The Exarch’s mouth drew a tight line, his whole body tensing as if he was a bow being drawn. 

“There is a lot to go through here,” the hero interceded, loudly, before the bickering could escalate. She stood back to gauge the amount of books on the tall shelf in front of her. “Two sets of eyes would make quicker work of this. Thank you, Exarch.”

She smiled at the mysterious man in that genuine way again, and it melted from his shoulders all the tension Emet-Selch had put here.

“Now,” she said, clapping her hands together, “Let’s try and find anything that has records of the farming processes of Norvrandt.”

The two began to peruse through the books, leaving Emet-Selch to slouch against the back wall and watch. This would prove to be a tedious wait, but the hero had also been right in her assessment of him earlier - no matter what, he would be watching and waiting for her to be done and alone. At least now he could enjoy the wait in her company. Annoying the Exarch was also a nice added bonus.

They passed several minutes in what could almost be considered comfortable silence. Occasionally the hero and Exarch chatted about the contents of a book, judging which were worth setting aside for later and which went back to the shelves. Emet-Selch noticed that the hero had a very discerning eye; very few books were actually deemed useful and made it onto the table. Most were returned to the dreary shelves. 

The hero skimmed through another old book and hummed, inviting sound snagging the Ascian’s attention. Swirls of dust from the old pages caught the dim light with each turned page.

“I have been meaning to ask, Emet-Selch,” the hero spoke with a lightness he could tell was faked, “what are those marks along your neck?” 

His mind blanked at her question. Blinking, he looked between her and the Exarch, wondering where she could be going with this. She knew damn well where they came from, but then his faltering pause prompted the corner of her mouth to turn up into a sly grin only he could see.

A villainous smile split his face. 

“These, my dear?” He pulled his collar down to give her and the Exarch a better view of his neck, showing off as much of his skin as his clothes would allow without unbuttoning. Once again, there was a familiar hunger behind her eyes as they drank in the sight of her work. “I have been getting a lot of questions about them today. No one seems to think we Ascians are capable of _worldly desires.”_

“I don’t think we need the sordid details, thank you,” the Exarch said quickly, turning his attention back to the bookshelf in an attempt to conceal the flush creeping up his neck.

The hero clicked her tongue, her next words spoken with a weight behind each one, like drops of water in the silence of night.

“How _abhorrent,_ for someone to _lay_ with an _Ascian.”_

Oh, how she was a devil today. 

“I have lived for millennia, my dear, and in that time have amassed quite a bit of _experience_ ,” he asserted, his voice lowering to a deep, smooth velvety purr. “Any of you mortals would be so lucky as to have me warm your bed.”

“Is that so?” Her voice, her expression, her posture, all cold and cool and unphased like stone through a storm. As though she wasn’t kneeling before him yesterday, or riding him so hard he saw stars. Like she wasn’t responsible for these markings.

It excited him in ways he had not felt in eons.

_“ Oh, yes_. And If you would like, I-”

_“_ I think that is _quite enough, Emet-Selch.”_ The Exarch’s raised voice got both of their attention, even the hero’s cool exterior giving way to surprise. There was tightness to the Exarch’s lips as he spoke. “I ache for the poor soul you tricked into your company, not knowing who, or more dearly _what,_ you are.”

Emet-Selch chanced a glance at the hero, fully expecting at least a shade of hurt behind her eyes.

Instead, they glimmered with devilry.

“Exarch?” A timid looking Au Ra stood before the table, jumping as she was suddenly on the receiving end of their collective attention. “I-I’m sorry to intrude, but I was asked to find you. Yalana and Katliss are having a bit of a disagreement in the Hortorium...”

The Exarch let out the shaky breath he had been holding.

“It will only take a moment, my Lord...” the woman mumbled apologetically.

The hero set her book down and offered the Exarch a look of understanding; she was no stranger to getting pulled away from one obligation to the next.

“Duty calls,” the Warrior reassured him, voice soft and comforting. “I will manage on my own.”

Lips still thin with worry, the Exarch peered up at the hero from under the shadow of his hood.

“I will be back as soon as I can. Please, feel free to continue this work some other time if the present company is too...distasteful.”

Emet-Selch sighed dramatically, but the hero waved the Exarch off.

“I will be _fine_. This is not the first time I’ve had to work with a nuisance hovering around.”

The Exarch hesitantly grabbed his staff, glancing back and forth between the hero and the Ascian. Words formed on his lips, but died on his tongue before he silently turned away and reluctantly followed the Au Ra woman away and down the stairs.

“You didn’t think I was much of a _nuisance_ yesterday,” Emet-Selch murmured as soon as the doors closed behind the Exarch. “And I would almost say you enjoyed making him squirm like that.”

The faint rustling of clothes was the only warning he got, before in one swift, quiet motion, the hero was upon him, pressing her smaller form to his and him into the bookshelf behind them. Books were knocked loose, landing with a dull thud on the ground. Greedy hands found their way under his half-coat, squeezing and rubbing along his chest, desperate to feel him through his regalia.

He titled his chin up and her lips were immediately upon him, kissing and nipping up his pulse and along his jaw.

“As eager as before,” he teased. "Have you been waiting to jump me this whole time?"

“How am I to help myself,” her voice was a hushed whisper against his throat, “when you are walking around so thoroughly marked by me?”

He sucked in a needy breath through his teeth as she pulled his collar aside to mouth along the still tender bruises.

“How upset would your Exarch be if I did steal you away, right now?”

She pressed more of her weight onto him as one of her hands slid down past his belt.

“I can’t have him come back to find us _both_ gone.” 

“A pity.” He knew the answer before he had asked, but disappointment seeped into his voice nonetheless.

He grabbed her wandering hand and pressed her palm to his hardening length. Sighing into the fur of his coat, she slowly started to stroke him, the layers of fabric over his length dulling the sensation to an oh so sweet tease.

She squirmed next to him. Pushing his knee between hers, he put his hand on her lower back, guiding her hips to grind against his thigh.

Their heated breaths were camouflaged amongst the quiet murmur of the library, hidden together in the shadowy corner where the warm light of the lamp did not reach. Like a growing fire, her movements became more and more desperate, roughly kneading him as he strained against his trousers.

In this tight corner she was overwhelming him. Her warm body pressed impossibly closer to his, her breath hot against his neck. Even her scent, of apple cider and cinnamon, drove away the stale air of the library. Her presence was all around, surrounding him, taking over all of his senses, engulfing him in her _need_ for him. 

Through the haze he registered her sudden stilling as the great doors to the library opened, and his stomach dropped as the sounds of both soft footsteps and tapping cane echoed up to them. She started to pull away, but his hand on her back kept her close.

“I would like you to keep me company tonight, my dearest hero.” There was too much desperation in his voice as he spoke, too much warmth mixed into the pale gold of his eyes.

The Warrior swallowed thickly, cheeks ever so slightly flushed. 

"I would like that."

The Exarch's footsteps reached the landing to their floor, and the hero immediately moved away to grab a book from the shelf. Sitting down with it open at the table, she presented the very picture of a studious Scholar. Emet-Selch fluffed his skirts back to normal and decided to become very interested in the bookshelf on the opposite side of the table as the Exarch turned the corner into their nook.

"Please pardon my absence, there was a bit of a disagreement on which resources should go where.” He set his staff back against the shelf and smiled at the Warrior of Light. 

“Now, where were we?”


	4. Royal Flush

The Warrior of Light stretched in her chair, arching her back in a way that had Emet-Selch drinking in the sight from his hidden vigil.

Bells earlier, after the Exarch’s _interruption,_ the hero delved wholly into her work, leaving no more opportunities to steal tender moments behind the other man’s back. Boredom quickly set in for the Ascian, and he opted for a quick doze in the void while he waited.

Rusty oranges and yellows painted the sky when he awoke, evening sun kissing the horizon. Checking in on the Scholar from the shadows, she seemed to have finally, mercifully, finished her work.

“I think we’ve sorted out all the most relevant material,” she said, placing a hand atop one of the many stacks of books in front of her.

The Exarch nodded in agreement, admiring the tomes from the end of the table.

“I will see that Moren keeps these set aside for your future use.” He turned his hidden eyes to the Warrior. “Again, I cannot thank you enough. Knowing you are helping with this will surely inspire our researchers in the selfsame way that you do our soldiers.”

“Think nothing of it,” the hero waved off his compliment as she stood from the table, stuffing a few of the books into her bag. “I would have liked to get more done today, but tomorrow we leave for Rak’tika, and I would prefer to get some rest before then.” 

Bidding farewell to the Exarch at the library doors, she made her way across the busy Crystarium. After all the waiting he had endured this day, Emet-Selch hoped she was making for a secluded spot—he couldn’t risk approaching her out in the open, lest one of her companions see.

She was effortlessly weaving through the evening crowds, walking as if she had a destination in mind, when she suddenly slowed to a stop in the markets. Brows knitting together, she glanced around, a look of deep concern behind her eyes. A pang of worry shot through him. Mayhaps she had finally come to her senses and realized just how foolhardy it was to have an Ascian steal her away for carnal pleasures. 

She started again with hastened steps towards the Pendants, offering only a curt nod of greeting to the attendant as she walked by and up the stairs. Apprehension making him impatient, Emet-Selch made himself known as soon as the doors to her room latched closed behind her.

“I do hope you’re done with your chores for the day, my dearest hero,” he said, keeping the concern from his voice as he stepped through the portal of dark aether. “I’m not sure how much more I can suffer watching you dallying about.”

She jumped with surprise, turning sharply towards the Ascian. But instead of returning to her usual cool, guarded demeanor at the sight of him, a wave of unchecked relief washed over her, relaxing her shoulders and softening her expression.

“Oh thank the Twelve,” she sighed, “I realized I hadn’t the faintest idea on how to actually find you.”

For the second time, the hero left Emet-Selch speechless. He couldn’t keep the delighted smile from his lips.

“The Warrior of Light, _happy_ to see an Ascian manifest in her room? How positively _scandalous_.”

She only huffed a laugh at that. Dropping her things by the door, she closed the distance between them. Her hands slid up and under his half coat, gentle fingers pulling him into an embrace, their hungry grasping from earlier gone.

“You have been such a distraction all day. Following me around, interrupting my work...” If she meant to scold him, it was all but lost in how the red sash across his chest muffled her words, so close she pressed herself to him.

“Now, I did leave you and the Exarch to your own devices after a while. Was that not sufficient?” he asked innocently.

“Even after you left, all I could think about was tonight. How I focused enough to get anything done is a wonder.”

He very much enjoyed hearing about how he had been on her mind. With a palm on her back, he leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“I take it you are ready to begin our play, then?”

“More than ready.”

He ran his hand down her side, settling on her hip. “As your emperor, do I have your leave to do with you as I please?”

A shiver shot up her spine as she nodded. “I only ask that you bring me back before morning, lest the others wonder where I’ve gone off to.”

He smiled. A simple enough arrangement.

Stepping aside and out of her embrace, he snapped his fingers, and in an instant his cloth regalia was replaced with the full imperial armor. It was a fair bit heavier than he remembered; the metal weighing him down, especially on his shoulders. But he would endure.

“Now, I know I said before that this was too uncomfortable to wear for this purpose, but—” He looked over, and the sight of the hero’s expression stole his words and broadened his grin.

Wide eyed, cheeks flushed, mouth agape, the Scholar’s calm composure vanished, replaced with awe and stuttering breath. Her eyes roamed over him, taking in every bend of metal and leather strap, trailing up the red cloth that hung down his front, watching the light from the window catch the gold accents of the spikes. At seeing her become so undone by such a simple thing, something hot flared up within him.

“My, my,” his voice dipped low and dangerous. A gauntlet clad hand came up and grasped her by the jaw, forcing her wandering gaze up to meet his. “Is the sight of a Garlean Emperor standing in your room enough to ruin you, my dear hero?”

Gasps and half started words were all she could stammer out, the blush on her cheeks deepening under his golden leer. He ran the cold metal of his thumb over her cheek, a gentle gesture belying the harsh appearance of the armor, allowing her a moment to collect herself. 

“You look _stunning,”_ she blurted out. Earnest, genuine adoration bled into her voice.

She immediately recoiled, setting her lips into a tight line and looking away. He didn’t think she meant to let that much known to him. A rare misstep by the calculating Scholar.

After some silent deliberation, he decided against pressing her on this and allowed that warmth he saw flash behind her eyes to remain a mystery. For now, he would grant her mercy and change the subject.

“You certainly put me on the spot earlier,” Emet-Selch mumbled, expression growing disdainful, settling more into the role of emperor. “And to call me a nuisance? Tsk. Tsk. We will have to work on your manners.”

The hero hummed in agreement.

“Such a slight,” her voice was breathless, but her eyes held his with their intensity. “Allow me to apologize in some way, Your Radiance.” Her hands kneading the red straps wrapped around his waist bespoke her desire.

“Oh yes, atonement is due.” He thought for a moment. Lightly, he trailed a steel-clad fingertip along her jaw and down her neck, letting her feel the cold metal rest against her pulse. 

“Pleasure yourself,” the words rolled off his tongue. “For my enjoyment.”

“Eme—Emperor Solus?” She faltered, breath catching. 

“Pull down your smallclothes, get on your back, and show me how much you want this.” His hand falling away, he drew himself to his full height and looked down his nose at the Scholar.

The airy groan that tore from her throat, punctuated with a curse under her breath, sent his blood rushing. But he kept his face impassive. It wouldn’t do to have the hero know she affected him as much as he did her. 

“But assuredly, you would want such a display in a more fitting setting?” The hopeful twist in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. 

“I suppose.” He clicked his tongue, eyes wandering over the drab inn room. Holding his arm out, he invited the Scholar to his side. “Come on, then.” 

Minding the sharper points of the armor, she nestled against him. With his hand resting on her shoulder, the void took them, reemerging to a sight that he had long ago grown familiar with.

“Welcome to the royal bedchamber, Warrior of Light.” He let his hand slide down and off her arm as he moved away, giving her space to take in their new surroundings.

Paintings adorned the walls, heavy curtains covered the large windows at the far end of the room, a rug from some great beast spread across the floor—it was exactly as he remembered it. The warm light from the grand fireplace bathed everything in soft, flickering oranges and yellows and deep dancing shadows. 

“This is… quite lovely.” Wonder filled the hero’s voice as she looked around, taking it all in. “Not bad for a tumble or two.”

Emet-Selch snorted at that. He didn’t fully understand why his time as the Garlean emperor fascinated the hero so much. To him, this was just the latest in a long line of mortal lives he had lived. Another empire he had built to fail, another step in his great, _tiresome_ journey. But when she so readily wanted him to steal her away, when she spoke of her desire’s so unashamedly, it was irresistible. He couldn’t help but play along, to get lost in her fantasy of a life he had already lived.

Coming up behind the awestruck hero, he slid a hand over her shoulder and down her front, pinning her slight frame between his palm and the metal breastplate of the armor. His other hand found its way under her skirt, steel fingers kneading the soft, plump skin underneath. While he silently cursed the lack of direct contact, the hitching in her breath was more than worth it. He leaned down as far as the cumbersome regalia would allow to whisper in her ear.

“Get on the bed.”

With a nod, the hero trembled under him with barely contained excitement. Releasing her, he leisurely followed her quick footsteps to the bed that sat against the wall opposite the hearth. 

“How’s this?” she asked as she laid down on top of the rich fabric, slightly sinking into the many layers of pillows and blankets. He always did, perhaps, go overboard with his bedding dress. 

“Lovely,” he purred as he walked up to the bedside. One hand settling into the plush material as he leaned onto it, his other went up her skirt. A metal-clad thumb hooked under the top hem to her smallclothes, and she raised her hips enough to let him drag the thin fabric down and off. Golden eyes followed her slender fingers as they trailed down her stomach and bunched her skirt up and out of the way, completely exposing herself for his view.

“Touch yourself.”

“Yes, Your Radiance.” With a deep breath, she slowly spread her knees for him as he looked on from above. He had to dig the metal on his fingertips into his palm to keep his mind steady—already, she glistened for him. “I would not have thought one such as yourself to enjoy such a perverse display.” 

“Who could resist such a sight?” he mumbled, eyes fixed on the way she dragged a finger around the plump folds of her sex, spreading her slick. With two fingers, she spread her lower lips apart to give him a view that tested his resolve to only watch. “Truly, a depraved hero.”

She huffed a breathless laugh, her fingers playing with the bundle of nerves at her front. Captivated, he cleared his throat, finding his tongue becoming heavy in his mouth.

“Tell me of your desires, hero. How would you like Emperor Solus to debase the Warrior of Light tonight?”

“I want you to bed me.”

Once again, her earnestness pulled a smirk from him.

“You will have to use your words better than that, my dear.”

“I want you to take me in front of everyone,” she panted, quick to appease his request. “To leave me quivering and dripping with your seed for the world to see.” He watched as she slid a finger insider her entrance, pulling out covered with slick that caught the firelight. _“Gods,_ the way you filled me yesterday.” She shuddered with the memory, teasing herself with a fingertip. “I want to feel that every night.”

Needing to tower over her, to see her under him, he leaned more onto the bed, bringing a knee up and sinking into the blankets with metal greave tearing the fabric. She pumped her finger harder, a second joining the first, desperate for his friction.

“I need you to—” A gasp cut her off as he placed his other hand on her thigh, letting the cold gauntlet leave gooseflesh in its wake as he slid down. Right in the crook of her hip, he stopped his hand, worn steel resting dangerously near delicate skin. This close, he could feel her move against herself.

“What else?” He tightened his grasp, and she moaned his title into the night.

“Fuck me, _please,”_ her plea was raw on her throat, absolute desperation painting her expression. His arousal throbbed against its confines as he watched her liquid gather on her fingers with each pump inside. Resolved, he pushed off from the bedside and walked down its length.

“Where are you—!” The hero yelped as he grabbed her roughly around the hips and dragged her down to the foot of the bed until her bottom sat along the edge. Her breath stopped when he kneeled. 

“Y-Your Radiance?”

“You are going to come on the tongue of Solus zos Galvus and you will thank me for it after.” There was no quarter with his tone, no warmth in his golden eyes. He wanted to savor her desire, and he would have it.

He positioned her legs to lie in the smooth dips of the armor’s shoulders, bringing her sex directly in front of him. Swallowing down his own groan of want at the sight, he dragged the flat of his tongue through her swollen lips. Her heady taste filled his mouth, overwhelming his senses, making him lap at her entrance for more like a man starved. He moved up to her clit, encasing it in his lips and sucked, sharp gasps his reward, every sound he pulled from her a delectable tease.

Driven by hunger to suck harder, to prod deeper with tongue alone, he devoured her until her essence dripped down his chin. The knowledge of one who has lived a thousand lives easily worked the hero into a pitiful, mewing mess above him. Her keening was a silent rhapsody as she tensed around him.

“Well?” He gave her no moment to recover from her peak. His own arousal throbbed painfully, demanding to be satiated.

“T-thank you, Your Radiance.”

With a last lick, he moved her legs from his shoulders and got to his feet, using the mantle to wipe clean his mouth. Pushing aside the banner hanging down his front, he quickly undid his trousers and freed his member to the humid air of the room.

“What did you say earlier? That you wanted to be filled by my seed?” He lined himself up, ruddy head pressing to her soaked entrance. The mantle fell forward like a curtain around them as he leaned over, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of her head. Metal surrounded them on all sides with Emet-Selch towering above, the scent of iron and sweat mixing between.

_“Please.”_

“Such a shameless hero.” He sank into her, wet warmth enveloping him ilm by ilm, taking him all the way to his base. The armor tassets hung at his waist dug into her spread thighs as they came flush together. With deliberate, painfully measured hip rolls, he set a languid pace between them.

A few moments is all it took before he heard a strained whine under him. He ignored it, keeping his steady, unhurried rhythm. Delight bubbled up as her impatience got the better of her. 

_“Harder,”_ she begged. Desperate to encourage him, she tried bucking back to meet him on each thrust.

“So bold as to give orders to emperors? Such a lack of manners. I’ve a mind to stop right now.” And he did, stilling while fully sheathed inside of her. He pulsed and twitched within her as she desperately clasped around him, struggling to coax him to movement. She threw her head back and huffed, nearly petulant in her frustration.

“You feel so good in me, Your Radiance, _please!”_

“Imagine if they could see you now.” He drew his length almost completely out before thrusting forward with all his weight behind it, pulling from her a delighted cry. “Laid out on your back under me, legs spread. So pliant in the hands of the enemy.”

He grabbed her by the hips, holding her in place with an iron grip as he pumped into her with as much force as he could give her. Words no longer formed on her tongue, replaced with gasps and moans, hands roaming over the bed as she tried to find some purchase on the blanket underneath. He watched, mesmerized by how her body rocked under him with each drive into her, again and again. The vaunted hero lost to the pleasures _he_ provided. 

“Look at you, _writhing_ on my cock like a _whore_ while I wear the full regalia.” His eyes gleamed, molten gold fire burning bright with hunger. “What a truly debased _thing_ you are—”

A moan that shook the night cut him off. Each muscle in the hero’s body pulled taut, arching her back off the bed as bliss overtook her every nerve. She reached for him, grasping whatever she could find, taking the royal mantle in fistfuls as if it were a lifeline. Trembles racked her, curses tumbled out of her mouth in a stream of obscenities, with mews of his titles mixed in. 

Panting, body flushed, hair sticking to the sweat on her brow—the sight of the famed Ascian slayer succumbing to pure ecstasy under, _on_ him, crashed his own climax over him like a wave breaking. His hips stuttered to an ungraceful stop as he released, spilling hot strands deep inside her fluttering warmth. 

The sounds of labored breaths and crackling fire floated through the room, broken only by his quiet laugh. A haze of bone-deep satisfaction softened all his senses. He snapped his fingers, ridding himself of the regalia, leaving him bare before the hero. Sweat beaded and rolled over sore muscles where the armor weighed heavily. While well worth the discomfort, he would feel this for days to come, he knew.

Pulling out, he climbed onto the bed and settled into the cushions at the headboard, his only thoughts now of rest. After some light coaxing, the hero moved up to join him, though she kept to her side. He traced soft circles over her hip where he could reach—the metal gauntlet had left purple fingerprint bruises blooming over the delicate skin. Closing his eyes, he relaxed into the downy pillows.

“I assume that you wish to be returned to your dreary inn now?” he mumbled through the exhaustion settling in. If she was done with him as quickly as last time, he’d rather take her back sooner than later.

A noticeable quiet filled the room, going on long enough for Emet-Selch to crack an eye open.

“Hero?”

“I only said to bring me back before morning.” She looked towards the fireplace as she spoke, keeping her voice aloof. “We still have several bells, yet. If—if you don’t mind, that is.”

Her stumbling words caught his ears and raised his brows.

“What’s that, not in a rush to get away tonight?” 

“This bed’s more comfortable than the one at the inn. But if you rather I didn’t, I understand.” She was giving him an out, but the steadfast gaze she leveled at the fire betrayed her hope.

“I only have intentions to sleep now, you know.”

“As do I. I’ve a busy day tomorrow.”

A tired, lopsided smile raised a corner of his lips. Amused, he didn’t think the blush forming on her cheeks was entirely from their coupling. 

“You are welcome to stay, if you wish.”

To his amazement, she got up from the bed, undressed, and returned to his side. Both getting under the covers, she allowed him to wrap an arm around her and pull her in close. With a flick of his finger, the fire quelled, casting the room into darkness.

Although a most surprising turn of events, it was not at all an unwelcomed one. He sighed onto the top of her head, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest under his arm, her warmth pressed close to him. The familiar scent of her, of apple cider and cinnamon, guided him to peaceful sleep.


End file.
